


Caleb Widogast vs the Mighty Neins Agenda

by lindt_barton



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sleepy Caleb, and jester :'), exasperated fjord, mischievous nott, self-care, they're all caleb centric cause i know what im about son, warnings are in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindt_barton/pseuds/lindt_barton
Summary: This is where I put Critical Role drabbles~~1 - 'Caleb is flopped in a bath' (Widomauk fluff, T)2 - 'I think I liked you better when you thought I was straight.' (Fjord, Caleb and Jester are buttheads, T)3 - 'Its eyes glow turquoise-orange' (off-canon meet-Nott, M)4 - "Here," Molly says, "For your lips." (more Widomauk fluff, G)5 - 'Caleb is flat on his back in the forest.' (filth, E)





	1. Chapter 1

Caleb is flopped in a bath - an expensive one, a porcelain tub sunk into a tiled floor - up to his neck in beautifully warm lemon-scented water.

Caleb can’t quite remember how he’d been convinced into this. It might have involved a lot of dragging and poking, some strength, and a little more dexterity on Molly’s part. And maybe an insistence that Molly be allowed to get Caleb properly clean. Just once. Just for Molly. Just- *Okay.*

His eyes are closed, his head is flopped backward, leant against and almost in Molly’s lap. Molly who’s sitting cross legged at the head of the bath, barely wearing a towel. With his pointed tail dipped into the water, swirling little currents around Caleb’s shoulder, and occasionally drawing trails over them. With his fingers drawing lazy soap spirals in Caleb’s hair. No- not soap, Molly had told him, something special that goes after, that-

Caleb can’t quite remember a lot of things right now. Like how to open his eyes. Or how to talk. Or.

He just manages to draw a deep hum out of his chest up towards Molly, who starts to say something in return. “-leb, darling-” Something far away. “-re you falling-” Something.

At the next bath-house, in the next town, Caleb doesn’t need much convincing at all.


	2. jester no

Caleb stands in front of Fjord on the other side of the giant, battered oak table on which he is nursing a pint of something that tastes watered down and Jester is sketching her latest kill. Fjord had just leant back, relaxed his body language and sort of smiled instead of saying hello when Caleb had walked up to him. Caleb had stayed awkwardly jittery and said, “Uhm, hello,” and started tapping the table-edge with his finger tips. Jester was only paying attention to shading a particular piece of airborne gore.

“Ja, uhm, I want to thank-you,” he pauses to scrunch his face up in socially awkward turmoil and then stares at the table as he continues, “uh, thank-you for diving in front of that beast today. It was very,” scrunch, “-brave and you know…” he runs out of words and finally looks back up at Fjord, rather helplessly.

Fjord throws him a bone in a smile and a happy nod, “Well thank-you, Caleb, that’s very kind.”

“Ja, huh,” he lets out a strange little huff that might be a terrified attempt at laughter, then blurts out, “Well, I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.” His face closes in on itself again as he turns away, and walks back to the stairs with his arms crossed and his hands fisting the fabric of his coat arms in frustration.

Before Fjord can even get his flagon back to his lips Jester leans towards him, and says in a terrible dangerous honey-sweet voice, “You knooow-”

“Oh no,” Fjord says to himself.

“You should just fuck him. I think he wants you to fuck him. I think he thinks you’re cuuute.” By the end of those rapid fire statements Fjord is hiding his face in the opening of his flagon, frowning, exasperated down into the bubbles.

“Jester,” he mutters.

“Yes Fjord?” she bounces as she says it.

“I think I liked you better when you thought I was straight.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: suicidal ideation, but it ends happy i swear

The rain has been covering the city all morning and all afternoon. Covering Caleb all morning and all afternoon. First it wet him head to toe, through and through, and now it’s chilling him to the bone.

Caleb doesn’t want the rain to stop.

Caleb wants the rain to wash down and over his eyes and take everything he has ever seen.

Caleb wants the rain to drown him right here in this gutter. He wants the di rt to fill his pores and eat him. He wants his clothes to unravel and expose his chest to the air, and to the sky, and the birds that will rest their feet on his sternum. He wants the hair to grow out of his face until it turns into brambles, and his bones are the rocks at the side of the road, where the children pick berries from between his joints.

Caleb blinks, and a smallish goblin slips, with talons outstretched, into the corner of his eye. He very carefully keeps staring at his big toe and does not move. It’s eyes - glowing turquoise-orange from between the scraggly strings of ink-black hair that fall out of its deep hood - are trained on his face as its finger slip on slow motion towards the cap thrown on the ground by his ankle. There’s more water in there than money.

Caleb looks straight at it. The goblin freezes, now locked into his gaze.

It had just dipped its finger inside a pewter and glass ring worth less than the copper coins strewn around it. After a moment it smiles, its face splits open to reveal tens of long, spiny teeth and says, “Is this for sale?” in a rather red-handed voice.

This is not what Caleb had expected so, while his brain tries to remember where it keeps words, all he manages to do is blink.

The goblin, a girl as far as he can tell, continues, “I have gold.” Caleb doesn’t have gold. In the silence where his reply should have been, her eyes slip back to the cut glass, and get stuck, “I’m a collector…” she whispers to herself.

Caleb leans forward, “You know-” he coughs, because his voice is having trouble getting out after days of disuse, “it’s lucky you have gold.” He plucks the ring from beneath her nose as it drifted ever closer, “because I couldn’t sell it for anything less.”

With an almost fearful freneticism she jams a hand into the folds of her rags. They jingle. That’s more than a few rings… Before Caleb can wonder if her eye for gold is as poor as her eye for expensive jewellery she has a coin shining in her fingers. A real gold coin.

But Caleb doesn’t see gold. He sees a warm soft bed behind a locked door. He tastes freshly roasted poultry swimming in gravy on his plate. He feels just how wet he is and just how dry he could be.

“Fine!” she says. He hadn’t spoken again. A flick of her fingers and suddenly she’s holding two.

Caleb dives for the gold. She dives for the ring. Before either of them let go, he looks her in the eye once more and says, “I can make you more things like this” He lets go, and the ring is in her hand, but she’s looking at him. “As many as you want.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More (not quite) self-care fluff  
> (from what was supposed to be a Fake Prince Molly + Empire Henchman Caleb AU but it never got farther than this...)

Molly sits at his dressing table, in front of a mirror as big as some of the cheap beds he used to sleep in, and starts to work through the grooming routine he's decided a royal would have. Caleb is pacing the room, occasionally checking various windows for safety, as he tends to do. When Molly reaches the small pile of moisturisers he had insisted upon, his eyes flicker into the mirror, to Caleb, now quite close behind him.

"Here," Molly says, twisting to hold out a small open tin of translucent balm, which Caleb takes without question. "For your lips."

“My..?" His fingers ghost over his lips. His brows are low, confused.

"They look awfully dry, darling." 

Caleb's fingers freeze, "Oh." He circles them over the surface of the balm and onto his lips. Molly watches him in the mirror, mouth half open, absently rubbing it across his lips. Done, he bites his lips, curious about the taste, and starts swiping the leftovers onto the arc of dry skin between his thumb and index finger. 

Molly leaps out of the chair, "No, no, no." He takes a hand from Caleb, "This is for your hands," and swipes moisturiser from his fingers, that he himself had been about to use, across Caleb's knuckles. He puts the rest on Caleb's other hand and starts massaging the cream into the driest parts of his skin. Molly notices for the first time: They aren't just dry, but covered in scars. Tiny. Criss-crossing. Sunken. Raised. All over.

Caleb pulls his hands away, turns away from Molly, and the mirror. He stands, his shoulders a wall, rubbing the cream into his own hands. A beat. And then, "Thank-you," with little intonation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> filth to celebrate 69 followers on liznt.tumblr.com cause i'm a mature grown up person.........

Caleb is flat on his back in the woods

The rich scent of leaf litter and new grass rises into the clearing air where his body, hands fisted, shoulders rising and falling, disturbs it.

The trees rise around him in a ring to form a glowing green crown over him. The cool afternoon sunlight falls through the canopy, dappled, and mixes with the freckles on his chest, bare under the sky.

The only noise in the clearing is the leaves shifting, the birds fluttering between them, Caleb's ragged breaths, his gasps, and Molly humming, satisfied, from between his legs. 

Caleb is flat on his back in a clearing in the woods, with his pants pulled open, and his shirt pushed up so that Molly can touch his chest, while he sucks him off. And he's taking his time. 

His right arm flat across Caleb's stomach. Holding him down. His thumb stroking in circles against the crest of Caleb's pelvis. His left jerking what little of Caleb's dick isn't currently in his warm warm mouth. Against his slick tongue. Between his tight lips. And knocking against his ridged throat.

And then he wraps his tail around Caleb's calf, to pull his leg wide, just enough to make Caleb's eyes roll back in his head. Caleb's hand grabs blindly for Molly's hair and his name starts falling out of his mouth over and over. Because he knows it's time.

And when Molly runs his hand up Caleb's chest, runs his fingers over his nipple, and grips his peck Caleb starts bucking into his mouth. And when Molly's other hand slips off his dick, over his balls, and his fingers spread lower and lower and lower until

Caleb comes under Molly's mouth and by his hand and under the sun and in the trees and

By the time Caleb remembers who he is, Molly is lounging beside him tracing circles on Caleb's chest with his finger, with a playful smile playing all over his face, "Am I allowed to be pleased with myself for that..?" His tail flicks happily behind him.

Caleb drops a hand onto Molly's knee, "Well, you have improved." Caleb starts stroking circles with his thumb. 

"Was I that bad?" Molly mock sighs.

Caleb pats his knee, "You were pretty bad." 

"Well that's what you get for dating a two year old."

"Three." Caleb lifts his hand to cup Molly's jaw. "Happy Birthday." He lets out a long sigh and trails his fingers down Molly's neck and down between the open halves of his tunic onto his chest. "Would you like your present?"

Molly smiles wide enough to show his fangs, "Please."

**Author's Note:**

> how is this the first bath fic ive written it's like my faaaavourite thing
> 
> btw if anyone can think of a way to get them to share a bed i so wanna write it...


End file.
